Of Frilly Dresses and True Affections
by razzle.matazz
Summary: Feelings long forgotten and buried deep within her heart resurfaced at his words. She wanted to fight the sudden quickening in her chest and the flutter in her stomach; it proved difficult to ignore. - Slytherin Fluff, Daphne/Blaise, Post-DH


**Of Frilly Dresses and True Affections**

There were some things that, as an older sister, Daphne could handle about her younger sister, Astoria. Daphne managed to overlook when the youngest Greengrass child "accidentally" destroyed a precious item that belonged to her elder sister; she learned to cope with Astoria's constant whining and complaining; she even ignored the steady praises bestowed upon her younger half whilst she earned all the criticism. But_ this _- this was just downright out of control, a complete and utter mess. Daphne wasn't going to stand for it - not at all. She was going to put her foot down this time and she didn't care how much Astoria cried; she would just have to learn that the world did not revolve around her.

"Oh, come on Daphne; hurry up!" called the sister in question.

Daphne rolled her eyes and let out a frustrated sigh before opening the dressing room door. She stepped out into the brightly lit robes shop and was instantly deafened by high-pitched squeals of delight. Several hands grabbed at her, dragging her towards the mirror, their owners all babbling loudly in her ear. She'd never felt so irritated in all her life.

"I can walk perfectly fine myself, thank you," she retorted heatedly, shrugging off the numerous fingers.

The other girls muttered half-hearted apologies as they stepped away from her, leaving room for Daphne to examine her reflection. She blinked repeatedly hoping that each time she opened her lids she would see someone different standing before her. However, the same brunette stared back, clad in the most atrocious, gaudy dress ever designed. Daphne wanted to cry out in disgust at the audacity of the fabric hanging on her figure. The cut of the dress itself wasn't bad - an empire waist skirt that hit right above the knee - but it was the design and all the extra _embellishments_ thrown on it that made it monstrous.

The garment was a shocking hot pink, the one color Daphne disliked the most. It was so bright and flashy, the complete opposite of the more calming and subdued blue tone she preferred. The bodice was pleated but the very edge was bejeweled with glittering rhinestones, bringing even more unwanted attention to an area that Daphne already felt self-conscious about. Around her middle was a silver sash adorned with an oversized crystal settled in the center and the lower half of the dress was comprised of three lacey tiers with tiny pearls sewn throughout intermittently. What made matters worse was the matching hot pink crinoline underneath the skirt that scratched at Daphne's bare skin. If her wand wasn't settled at the bottom of her purse - which, incidentally, was lying on the floor in the dressing room - she'd Obliviate herself so she couldn't ever remember donning the wretched outfit.

"Daph, you look beautiful," gushed Astoria, face lit with pre-marital bliss, resting her hands on her sister's shoulders. "Doesn't she look fabulous, girls?" she called to the waiting group of bridesmaids behind them.

Various affirmatives were called back excitedly. Daphne willed herself not to comment on the extent of the bridal party's style repertoire; instead she opted to tell her sister truthfully how she felt about the dress.

"Tori," she began while her sister fussed with the pink garment. "This dress...it isn't what I had in mind."

Astoria stopped fiddling with the hem and looked up at her sister, the confusion already playing on her face. "What do you mean, Daph? Don't you like it?"

How could she put it nicely? There really was no way. "No," she answered bluntly.

Astoria bit her lip, disappointment swimming in her blue eyes. Daphne was sure her sister was only feigning sadness to get her to cave once more to her every whim, but she decided not to fall prey again.

"Fine," said Astoria after a few silent moments. "You don't have to wear the dress. I just really wanted my maid of honor - _my best friend_ - to stand out at the wedding since her position is _so_ important. I guess having my dream wedding doesn't mean much to you."

Daphne rolled her eyes impatiently. Here it was, the well-rehearsed guilt trip, especially devised to make her realize her mistake and promptly ask for forgiveness. Daphne peeped through her brown fringe to see the pout on her sister's lips.

"Astoria, just stop. That's not going to work this time."

"But, Daphne, you're my sister," she pleaded, taking a hold of the brunette's hand. She laced their fingers together affectionately.

"Yes, and as your sister, I'm telling you that this dress is hideous and I refuse to wear it to your wedding."

Astoria dropped her hand abruptly, the hurt displayed boldly across her milky skin. Daphne could see the tears threatening to break forth from her sister's golden lashes while her bottom lip trembled. A pang shot through her heart and she felt sick to her stomach. Daphne tried to shake off the feeling of remorse that was creeping through her body but the doting, protective big sister side of her started to take over.

************

Daphne watched her sister dance in the arms of her new husband, their bodies swaying rhythmically to the music. Astoria looked absolutely breathtaking in her slim, form flattering satin white gown. Daphne had never seen her sister as elated as she did that night. A smile tugged at her lips as her heart swelled with pride. Her younger sister was no longer a love struck girl but a happily married woman.

"Care to have this dance?" A voice broke through her thoughts, startling her slightly.

Daphne turned in her seat towards the voice and saw Blaise Zabini standing behind her chair. He was dressed impeccably in his black tux and the silver necktie popped against the dark fabric of his shirt.

"Sure," she responded taking his hand as he helped her from her chair.

Blaise led them both onto the dance floor where many of the guests were located. He took her right hand in his left as his other hand found its way to her lower back. Daphne placed her left hand on his shoulder while they moved side to side. She continued her examination of Draco's best man, marking the definition in his jaw and his high cheek bones. His ebony skin was flawless and - if his hand was any indication - unbelievably soft.

"It's rude to stare you know," he commented before twirling her.

He caught her in his arm once she came back around, this time bringing their bodies closer together. She let out a small 'oh' as their chests touched and his cologne wafted into her nose. Not only did he look good; he smelled divine, too.

"I wasn't staring," Daphne retorted defensively. "I was just admiring how debonair you look this evening." She didn't sound as nonchalant as she had intended.

"It's still called 'staring', no matter how you phrase it."

Daphne shot him a glance to see that he was wearing a smug smirk. He was just full of himself, like always. "Whatever, Zabini, take it as you will. It'll be the last time I ever compliment you."

"I won't hold you to it."

"And what's that supposed to mean?" she asked. He stayed silent, the smirk never leaving his face. Daphne sighed impatiently. That was the thing about Blaise; he always said something that left you wondering about his intentions.

While they continued to move across the floor, the crinoline kept rubbing uncomfortably against Daphne's legs. She tried desperately not to succumb to the itch but it was beginning to become unbearable. Not able to resist any longer, she let out a groan as she ran a hand over the outside cloth in the hopes that it would smooth out the fabric underneath. Her actions did not go unnoticed by Blaise, who arched an eyebrow and asked what she was doing.

"It's this bloody dress," she blurted out in frustration. "It itches like mad and the color - oh Merlin - the color is just dreadful! _Hot pink?!_ I don't know what Astoria was thinking."

All the hate she had felt towards the dress from first laying eyes on it spilled from her mouth. She had promised she would make it through Astoria's big day without complaining about the garment but it was becoming a nuisance trying to avoid the scratching on her skin. Moreover, the color was a constant reminder of the awful medicine she took when she was nauseous. Daphne knew she was behaving like an ungrateful, selfish hag and guilt was beginning to set in until she heard Blaise chuckle.

"Is it really that bad?" he questioned.

"Yes," she stated childishly, acquiring the same tone and facial expression as Astoria when things weren't going her way.

"Hmm. I actually think pink suits you well."

"And I think that's a cauldron full of codswallop," she bit.

He ignored her comment and nasty tone. "Beyond the garish decor, it fits you nicely. Not many women can pull off such an outlandish color."

"Because that just makes me feel one hundred percent better."

"Are you incapable of accepting a compliment?" he asked, a harsh edge to his tone.

Daphne bit her lip, the all too familiar pang of guilt sitting uncomfortably on her chest. She didn't mean to be bitter towards him and knew she was acting foolish for dragging out her dislike for a silly piece of clothing she'd never have to wear again. However, a tiny nagging voice in the back of her head kept telling her that he was correct. It was always so hard for Daphne to believe the endearing comments paid to her, convincing herself that friends and family only spoke highly of her out of obligation. She did feel horrible for snapping at Blaise and made to apology to the tall young man.

"I'm sorry for acting so miserable; I shouldn't have taken out my anger on you."

His face softened and the corners of his mouth tugged upward. "Apology accepted, though, to be honest I'd probably have a fit if I was forced to wear an outfit as flashy as this."

Daphne giggled imagining Blaise clothed in a glitzy fuschia suit. The picture was absurd but it cheered her up nonetheless. The most humorous part of it all was that Blaise had made the comment in the first place. Since knowing him, he rarely cracked a joke; his demeanor was typically sophisticated and serious with heavy doses of pride and indifference. She supposed this "new" side of him was just another piece of the puzzle that made Blaise...well, _Blaise_.

"You probably won't believe me but I must say you are undeniably beautiful when you laugh."

Feelings long forgotten and buried deep within her heart resurfaced at his words. She wanted to fight the sudden quickening in her chest and the flutter in her stomach; it proved difficult to ignore. He tucked a loose strand of her chestnut hair behind her ear, staring deep into her eyes. Daphne could hardly believe the amount of admiration sitting below the surface of his coffee pools. She had to blink several times to keep herself from melting. Without warning, his lips brushed ever so lightly across her mouth; the touch was too soft - it didn't feel real - but it was enough to make her knees go weak. As if he knew what her reaction would be to his surprising gesture, Blaise tightened his grip on her waist, keeping her from falling at his feet.

"You can't be serious," she choked out weakly, the effects of his actions still taking a hold of her."

He sighed deeply. "You are an attractive woman, Daphne, capable of enticing any man; yet you don't even know _how_ beautiful you really are. It upsets me to see you brush off the comments but I can't help being drawn to you. One day you'll realize the power you possess and when that day comes, just know I'll be there waiting."

She had no idea what to say to him, how to react to something so endearing. Even she had known how to respond, she didn't have the chance as Blaise's name was being called from across the room. They both turned their heads to see Draco and the other groomsmen gathered around the photographer, the tall blonde gesturing towards Blaise.

"It seems I'm needed elsewhere," he stated a hint of disappointment evident in his deep voice.

"Right," Daphne let out softly, sadness staining the word.

By then the music had stopped, the band taking this time to relax. Blaise's warm hands fell from her body and he stepped back but not before planting a tender kiss on her cheek. He bowed regally then turned on his heel in the direction of the groom. As she watched him walk away, Daphne thought that perhaps the frilly, pink monstrosity wasn't all that bad, especially if it garnered the attention of such a princely man.


End file.
